Page 73 of Her Orc Protector

Ellie made a demanding noise from her blanket, and I smiled, breaking away from Uldrek's gaze. "I hear you," I called, crossing the garden to scoop her up. She smelled of sun-warmed cotton and the faint honey-sweetness of her milk soap. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling deeply.

"Someone's tired," I murmured as she nestled against my shoulder, the rattle still clutched in one tiny fist.

"She refused to nap today," Uldrek said, rising to his feet and dusting off his knees. "Kept watching for you."

A small, tight feeling bloomed in my chest. "I'm sorry I was late. Edwin needed help with—"

"Issy." Uldrek stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm. "You don't need to explain. She's fine. We’re fine."

I swallowed, nodded. "I know."

He smiled slightly, leaning in to press a kiss to my head. "Sure you do."

I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could speak, a familiar voice called from around the side of the house.

"If you're done standing around, these wards need tending."

Hobbie appeared, rounding the corner with something clutched in her small, gnarled hand. Her usual scowl was set deeper today, her eyes narrowed against the evening light.

"What is it?" I asked, immediately alert.

She didn't answer immediately, just held out her hand. In her palm lay a blackened thread—one of her protective charms, now scorched and brittle.

"Left window frame burned last night," she said, her voice flat. "Thread turned to ash."

Uldrek stepped forward, examining the charred remains. "Which window?"

"The one beside the south door. Near the porch."

I instinctively tightened my hold on Ellie, who squirmed in protest. "Is he—"

"He's testing," Hobbie said, cutting me off. "Like a cat with a door."

The brownie tucked the burned charm into one of her many pockets and produced another bundle—this one made of twisted hawthorn stems, iron thread, and what looked like dried nettle. She moved past us toward the house, already muttering protective words under her breath.

Uldrek and I exchanged a glance. The comfort of earlier bent slightly, warping under the weight of what we both knew was coming.

Hobbie paused at the door, turning back to look at us. Her eyes, sharp and ancient, fixed first on Uldrek, then on me.

"If you're going to plant things," she said, nodding toward the garden, "be sure you're ready to keep them alive."

Then she disappeared inside, leaving us in the cooling evening air.

Uldrek straightened, stretching his back with a grunt. "I need to wash," he said, wiping dirt from his hands onto his trousers. "Won't be long."

I nodded, bouncing Ellie gently as she began to fuss again. "I'll start on dinner."

He headed for the water pump at the side of the house, a large basin already positioned beneath it. I watched him go, then turned toward the cottage door, only to pause as Uldrek pulled his shirt over his head in one fluid motion.

I lingered, unable to look away. The evening light caught on the planes of his back, highlighting the curve of muscle across his shoulders. He pumped water into the basin, then bent to splash his face and neck, the water running in rivulets down his chest.

There was nothing performative about the way he moved—just the easy grace of someone comfortable in his own skin, unaware of being watched. He ran his fingers through his brown hair, slicking it back from his face, then reached for a cloth hanging on the pump handle.

Something warm and liquid pooled in my belly as I watched, a now-familiar ache building. We didn't talk about it much—what had shifted between us. But it was there in the way he touched me now. The way I let him. We found each other in the quiet more than once.

I tore my gaze away and ducked inside the cottage, suddenly warm despite the cooling evening.

Hobbie was already at the hearth, stirring something that smelled of onions and herbs. She didn't look up as I entered, but I could feel her awareness of me—of us—in the set of her shoulders.